Homeward Bound
by daughterleilani1
Summary: After Endgame, all the luggage is tagged for transport for the crew. Chakotay's is missing. Where is it? In Indiana of course.


Have you ever been irrationally afraid? Like you know that you are safe, but still, the thought of opening a door is terrifying? That's how I feel right now… I'm staring at a door. The red front door of a large farm house seems to be mocking me. Of course, I'm not really afraid of the door, but what's on the opposite side of the door. I stare at the name on the brass knocker for several seconds.

 _Janeway_

I feel like an intruder. Kathryn likely doesn't know I'm on my way here. After all, the invitation came from Gretchen Janeway, not my captain. After stepping off of Voyager's receiving platform, I was shocked to find my belongings already missing. A young ensign walked by and I caught her arm asking for my crate. She informed me it had been tagged for transport to Bloomington, Indiana by a Gretchen Janeway and that I should make my way there promptly. Now, here I stand without the faintest clue why I am here. Kathryn and I have always had a unique relationship, but post mission plans were never discussed; at least not with me.

I finally take a deep breath and lift my hand to the knocker, shocked to see the door open before I even touch the brass.

"Chakotay, my boy, it's good to see you!" the older woman cries, enveloping me into her arms. Her thin arms wrap around my neck and she squeezes my shoulders tightly. She smells of sugar cookies and coffee, reminding me both of Kathryn and my own mother. She finally pulls back and wraps her arm around my elbow to lead me inside.

"Hello, Mrs. Janeway. Thank you for the invitation to your lovely home," I reply. She's already shaking her head at me with that little half smile on her face. Kathryn must have inherited that one.

"No, no, no. Mrs. Janeway is my mother-in-law and she's dead. So,I prefer 'Mom', but Gretchen if you must," the older woman's eyes twinkle as she speaks. She firmly latches the door behind us and drags my small duffle off my shoulder. I try to keep it from her, but she bats my hands away.

"Now, son, you can take this upstairs later," she commands, dumping my bag on the stairwell and leading me away from it. "Right now, I'm afraid I need your help. Kathryn told me you are a fine cook. I hope that means you can chop vegetables. These old hands aren't as steady as they once were, and I'll be damned if I use replicated veggies."

"Yes, Ma'am," I laugh. She leads me to a large farm table in front of a window. It's in a large eat in kitchen. Beyond another archway, like the one we just came through, I can see a formal dining area and a large living space, all open with windows.

Gretchen slides into the wooden chair next to me at the table and hands me a large knife and a bag of celery. Wordlessly she begins to peel carrots and slide them over to my area for me to cut after I finish with the celery. I cut all the stalks and deposit the chopped bits into a stock pot in the center of the table. She smiles at me as she slides her pile of carrots closer to me. I gently lay the knife on the table and turn to face her.

"I don't mean to be rude, but why am I here?" I finally ask. She lays down her vegetable peeler and settles her hand over mine on the table.

"Tell me about your family, Chakotay. Was someone supposed to be there to collect you?" she asks without a single bit of hesitancy; something else Kathryn must have inherited as well.

"Well, most of them were killed by the Cardassians during the border colony skirmishes. My father and cousins joined the Maquis when our settlement was attacked. My sister was off world when they destroyed what was left of our homes, so she's the only one I have left. My father was killed trying to repel the attack."

"Where is your sister now?" Gretchen asks quietly.

"She's on her way to Earth I think. She works with the terraforming details on the border colonies. It takes two weeks to get here from Dorvan, so she's on her way."

I don't know why I feel so comfortable telling her all these things about my life. She asks me a question and I feel no reservations about giving her an honest answer. She stares into my eyes and I feel like she can see my very soul, as if there is no point in lying to her, or trying to conceal a truth, because she can see it for herself.

"And your mother?" Her voice is soft and soothing. She knows it's a painful topic for me.

"She was killed in the initial attack on my home. That's why my father joined the Maquis." My words fail as tears spring to my eyes. I battle them down. I refuse to cry in front of her. I remember my father's angry words as he told me I was responsible for my mother's death. The organization I left the colony to serve had abandoned them.

"My father blamed Starfleet for my mother's death. He also blamed me because I left the colony. He told me I should have been home to protect her and my cousins."

I look away quickly as I feel a tear slide down from the corner of my eye. I don't want her to see my weakness. A touch on my cheek draws my eyes back to her.

"Let me tell you about blaming Starfleet. I'm the queen of that life. I lost my husband and my daughter, twice, to Starfleet. I know full well how easy it is to become bitter towards them."

I must have looked confused when she mentioned losing Kathryn more than once because she reaches up and pats my cheek, just like my captain does when she comforts one of her flock.

"I'm sure Kathryn has told you about the accident which took her fiancee Justin and her father Edward?" she questions. I nod silently.

"What you don't know, and she doesn't know either, is that when Starfleet Security showed up at my door that day, they told me both Edward and Kathryn had died in the crash."

The air in my lungs rushes out at the memory of how that feels. To be told nearly your entire family was gone in the blink of an eye brings up all the painful memories of my own. My eyes close as the voices of my past assault me.

 _Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but your mother was killed in a Cardassian attack on Dorvan._

 _Chakotay! I blame you! You should have been here to protect her!_

 _Father, where were you?! How could you have let that happen to her!_

 _Sir, there has been a second attack on the Dorvan system. I'm afraid your father is among the casualties. He was killed along with a number of other Maquis._

 _Admiral, I must submit my resignation…_

 _Commander, if you join them, you will be hunted as a traitor. You must know that._

 _Yes, Admiral._

Gretchen's soft palm against my cheek brings me back to the present.

"Then you lost her again to the Delta Quadrant," I offer. She nods, placing her hand back on top of mine on the table.

"Yes," she whispers. "How many losses can one person take before they just don't feel it anymore?"

I swallow the rising lump in my own throat. This woman, Kathryn's mother, has managed to unravel years worth of control over my own losses in just a few moments.

"Kathryn has lost so much," she speaks quietly. "You both have. I don't want to see you lose each other. That's why you are here, Chakotay. Whether you choose to pursue romance or not, you need each other. And you will _always_ have family in this house. Your parents may be gone and Dorvan may not be what you remember, but you have a home here with us."

The lump in my throat swells as I try to swallow again, and I feel more tears gathering. Gretchen's kindness tugs at the very fabric of who I am. The knowledge that someone cares about me in a maternal sense, beyond where I come from or what I have done, is a wonderful feeling I haven't had in years. I turn my hand up and clasp her fingers in my own.

"Thank you… Mom," I quietly reply. Her smile deepens. A third hand joins our embrace and my eyes follow the line of her arm up to Kathryn's smiling face. During the emotional conversation, I hadn't heard her come in. I notice her eyes are watery as well.

Gretchen pats my cheek once more and stands to make room for her daughter to sit next to me at the table. I stare into Kathryn's deep blue eyes and see all my own feelings reflected back at me. I vaguely register Gretchen saying something about retrieving potatoes from the garden before she slips out the back door. My vision is filled with Kathryn.

Our hands are still locked on the table. Her other palm lifts to my cheek for a moment before sliding behind my neck. Her fingers weave into the soft strands of hair at the base of my skull as she pulls me toward her waiting lips. Our first touch is electric. Her mouth is soft and yielding under mine, as our tongues duel for dominance. Her fingers let go of mine on the table and wander up to link with her other hand behind my neck. She pulls herself forward to straddle my lap on my chair, her knees settling on each side of me as my hands rest on her hips. When our need for oxygen gets too great, we finally pull back a little to rest our foreheads together, breathing heavily. Her lips curl into a small smile. I reach up to gently brush a strand of loose hair away from her cheek.

"Welcome home, Chakotay," she whispers, just before sliding forward to claim my mouth again.


End file.
